THE DAY MY FRIEND DIED
Men so tired they drag their bodies across the battlefield.
Unable to breath, choking on coughs and smoke from machinery.
Men march from the frontline, worried that they might get shot
As i look around and see soldiers Fall to the ground.
Bare feet, bleeding toes, only ripped shoes to protect them.
They stagger, intoxicated by the battlefield.
Slow they can’t move quick enough to escape the explosions.
Winces of ‘Ouch, Ouch, Ouch’.
poisonous gas! ‘boys boys boys!’I warned, pointing to my gas masks
I chuck my gas mask on my bruised face in the nick of time.
I hear a cry, “gas in my lungs”! And He falls to the ground dying.
He grasps the air, trying to get my attention.
I can’t see a darn thing because the gas is as thick as fog.
A pea-coloured blanket.
I felt guilty because there is no point saving the soldier.
I am so disgusted. a Lifeless soldier, pale skin like paper.
Mucus and blood come dribbling out from his nose and mouth.
The sounds of his gurgling are disturbing.
I can’t put up with it any more.
I block my ear and keep them tightly shut.
If you have seen the horrors of being a soldier,
Losing limbs, bodies thrown into wagons, risking their lives,
I ask you. would you still fight for your country?
is it an honor to die?
LEST WE FORGEt
By Bradley
